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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24350269">Written in Skin, Not in Stone</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrooklynBooks/pseuds/BrooklynBooks'>BrooklynBooks</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Batman - All Media Types, DCU, DCU (Comics)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Fluff, I keep it as vague as I can otherwise, Jason Todd Needs A Hug, Reader Has A Name, Reader-Insert, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 08:39:32</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,800</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24350269</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrooklynBooks/pseuds/BrooklynBooks</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Jason had been hiding the words branded into his forearm long before becoming a Wayne made it necessary. There were worse soulmate marks to have, he knew, but that didn’t stop his from embarrassing him constantly.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jason Todd/Original Female Character(s), Jason Todd/Reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>214</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter One</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>Before</b>
</p>
<p>Jason had been hiding the words branded into his forearm long before becoming a Wayne made it necessary. There were worse soulmate marks to have, he knew, but that didn’t stop his from embarrassing him constantly.</p>
<p>
  <i>Back off, pretty boy!</i>
</p>
<p>Those were the words, written in tight typewriter script on the soft underside of his arm, that he would hear when he met his soulmate. He looked down one day and suddenly was able to make the words out, the blotch of ink he’d been born with growing into something legible as he got older. In a lightning flash of exhilaration his heart skipped. When it started again, he felt like throwing up.</p>
<p>Maybe his soulmate hated him—or was going to hate him.</p>
<p>That would be fine, he decided. Some people lived long, happy lives without their soulmates. He knew Alfred had only met his once, a long time ago, and he was fine. Even if worse came to worst, Jason would be fine too. He didn’t need this.</p>
<p>He put everything he had into being Robin instead, learning everything Bruce and Alfred—even Dick—would teach him. He studied to the point of exhaustion and aced every class in school because that’s what a Robin would do.</p>
<p>Didn’t change the fact he’d rather get sucker punched by rogue’s gallery thugs every night than face high school, especially with the name Wayne hanging over his head. All anyone wanted to talk to him about was how many yachts Bruce Wayne had (none, unless you counted the Batboat) or why Dick Grayson had left Gotham (don’t know, don’t care). Worse were the people who asked him point blank if Bruce had only taken him in for the publicity.</p>
<p>Then there were the guys who tried to knock him around, trying to prove some point or because they thought it was funny. Bruce, Alfred, his teachers, the school counselor, they’d all told him a million times to ignore them. Be better than them. So he did, because Robins didn’t hurt innocent civilians. No matter how far their heads were up their asses. </p>
<p>Then they made the mistake of roughing someone else up and their innocence evaporated.</p>
<p>He recognized the girl. She sat in front of him in chemistry—Layla or Lucy or something. They were backing her into a corner behind the bleachers and trying to grab at things they shouldn’t be. Jason shouted at them just as she decked one right in the jaw. No one reacted until she hit him in the stomach too, sending him sprawling on the pavement. One guy pulled on her hair, so she scratched him across the face.</p>
<p>When Jason knocked him back, she turned and snapped, “Back off, pretty boy!”</p>
<p>He stopped.</p>
<p>Then one of the guys punched him in the face. Countless hours of training and missions burned in his muscle memory. He didn’t attack. He reacted. By the time they scrambled away, he figured he’d broken at least a couple of ribs and a nose.</p>
<p>He turned and saw the girl leaning against the bleacher scaffolding, clutching her side and gasping for air. They’d knocked the wind out of her.</p>
<p>“Shit, are you okay?” Words tumbled out of his mouth automatically as he knelt down next to her, then he winced. What a thing to say to your soulmate for the first time. Had she been stuck with that all her life?</p>
<p>“I’m fine,” she coughed.</p>
<p>He tried for a winning smile, his heart thudding in his ears, then failed. “Shitty way to meet your soulmate, huh?”</p>
<p>“What?” It sounded more like a warning than a question.</p>
<p>He rolled his sleeve up to show her. She grabbed his wrist to get a better look, squinted at the words, then laughed all the air back into her lungs.</p>
<p>“You got the wrong girl.”</p>
<p>“But you said—”</p>
<p>“I know what I said.” She waved him off, then smiled bitterly. “But I don’t have a mark. Never have.”</p>
<p>“So—what?” Jason’s eyes stung despite himself, he felt sick. “You’re my soulmate, but I’m not yours?”</p>
<p>“Chill.” She smirked at him, but her eyes were kind. “I’m sure there are plenty of people out there who think you’re pretty.”</p>
<p>“Oh.” His ears burned. He suddenly understood why Bruce hid in a cave so much.</p>
<p>“And hey.” She nudged him, jolting him back. “Thanks for backing me up. I didn’t know a Wayne boy could fight like that.”</p>
<p>He laughed, explosive and full of relief. “My name is Jason Todd.”</p>
<p>“I know.” She stuck out her hand. “I’m Lark.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter Two</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Not having a soulmate mark tended to bother other people way more than it bothered Lark. She wasn’t about to go around mourning something she never had. Plenty of people lived long, happy lives without a soulmate. She didn’t need it. Fate said as much.</p>
<p>She liked having Jason Todd around though.</p>
<p>Not that she was ever going to tell him that. He had a soulmate. But he also made her laugh. And he took her seriously. And when he said something, he meant it. They were friends and she would hold on to that as long as she could.</p>
<p>“I can’t believe you made me watch that,” Jason groaned, dragging himself off the couch and into the kitchen.</p>
<p>She shrugged. “I warned you.”</p>
<p>He spent his rare nights off at her apartment, taking a break from whatever it was Bruce Wayne had him doing, watching bad movies only she liked and throwing popcorn at her. </p>
<p>“Nah, sometimes they’re redeemable,” he said, his head inside the pantry. “That was just awful.”</p>
<p>She sprawled over the back of the couch and watched him root through her cereal boxes. “You’re here voluntarily, Todd. If you have someplace better to be—”</p>
<p>“I don’t,” he said, quickly pulling his head back out. Then he grinned, with a smile that jumpstarted cars and overloaded power stations. “But I’m here for your food, not your shitty taste in movies.”</p>
<p>“<i>Teh.</i>” Lark shook her head. She did her best to stare levelly at that smile of his, but the corners of her mouth curled against her better judgement. “Your life is basically the plot of <i>Annie</i>. I should start charging.”</p>
<p>“I bet you could send a bill to Bruce and he wouldn’t even notice.”</p>
<p>“That’s awful.”</p>
<p>Jason laughed, apparently giving up on food, and flopped back onto the couch next to her. “Hey, eat the rich or whatever, right?”</p>
<p>She snorted and rolled her eyes. “I guess.”</p>
<p>“You know,” he mumbled, leaning forward like he did when he talked shit about people at school. “There’s this thing Bruce is hosting—a fucking charity gala or something—and he says I have to go.”</p>
<p>“Gross.”</p>
<p>“Yeah.” He looked away, scuffing the hair at the back of his head, then glanced back at her with glass green eyes that cut. “Wanna go with me?”</p>
<p>Lark blinked. “What? Like your date?”</p>
<p>“Sure.” He drew the word out, testing the waters.</p>
<p>“Jason…”</p>
<p>“It’s not a big deal.”</p>
<p>A lightning strike of panic slammed her nerves. “Yes, it is. There’s—there’s gonna be press and stuff. They’re gonna think I’m… and I’m not and you know that.”</p>
<p>“Look, just—” He reached for her hands. She let him fit his fingers between hers, letting herself anchor to him. “Pretend for a second, there’s no marks or soulmates or anything. Just you and me.” He took a deep breath. “Will you go on a date with me?”</p>
<p>“Jason—”</p>
<p>“Yes or no answer.”</p>
<p>“It’s not that simple.”</p>
<p>“Why not?”</p>
<p>“Because you have a soulmate.” She scowled and pushed up his sleeve to remind him. “And you’re going to meet them and you’re going to love them more than anything and I am not getting in the way of that.”</p>
<p>“Lark. These words.” He set her hand on his forearm and held it there. “They’re yours. If—if you want them to be.”</p>
<p>The tears surprised her, tracing burning tire tracks down her face. A hole ached somewhere below her sternum. “You’re gonna leave—”</p>
<p>“No, I won’t.” He closed his eyes and carefully rested his forehead against hers. His breath broke over her like ocean waves, crashing against her own.</p>
<p>“You will,” she insisted, voice fractured under the strain. “When you meet them. It happens all the time.”</p>
<p>“I’ve already met you.”</p>
<p>She slumped against his shoulder. “I can’t do this.”</p>
<p>He put his arms around her and held her tight. She leaned into it, wanting to stay here. “If you tell me to,” he said, “I won’t bring it up again. I promise. But please don’t let some stupid mark be the reason you say no.”</p>
<p>“I can’t do this,” she said again, because she knew she was being selfish, then pulled away. It looked like tight wires were all that held him together. “It’s only gonna hurt us both.”</p>
<p>Jason’s phone rang. He stared at it and let it buzz against the table for an infinite few seconds before answering it. His face rearranged into a mask of itself. After he hung up, he said it was Bruce. And he said he had to go.</p>
<p>She hated how easy it was to close the door behind him.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter Three</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When Bruce briefed him on the mission, Jason wanted to walk out and go back to Lark’s apartment. The entire plane ride to the site, he thought about calling her. And when Joker raised the crowbar, with that glowing uranium smile split across his face, he wished he could see her one more time. </p><p>He wouldn’t screw everything up this time. He would tell her that he loved her. He would—</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter Four</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>After</b>
</p><p>Lark heard about it on the news. Her mother turned it on while she folded laundry, so neither of them paid much attention. Then she caught Jason’s name.</p><p>He had been kidnapped by the Joker, they said, and held for ransom. She stared blankly at the publicity photo they showed of him with his family, smiling politely. Her heart sank into her stomach, making her sick. She held her phone tight in one hand and resisted the urge to call him, laugh this off as a joke, tell him she was sorry, tell him that she loved him.</p><p>Weeks and several million dollars from Bruce Wayne later, Jason still hadn’t been released. People at school asked her about it constantly, if she’d heard from his family, if it was a stunt, if she was okay. She snapped at them until they learned to leave her alone.</p><p>After six months, everyone assumed he was dead. They didn’t say his name on the news anymore. She met Alfred, who she’d always assumed was basically Jason’s grandfather based on the way he talked about him, when she finally got around to returning the stuff he’d left in her apartment. He politely thanked her, which made her feel a little guilty because she’d kept the hoodie Jason had given her. She remembered him grinning at her, then he winked and said she’d break his heart if she ever returned it.</p><p>Eventually, the Waynes held a private, closed casket funeral. She didn’t go because she wasn’t invited. Instead, she watched one of his favorite movies and made popcorn and ordered pizza with everything on it that he used to try and convince her to eat. Tears built up in her throat and behind her eyes, but they wouldn’t fall. She stuck his hoodie in the bottom of a drawer. And that was the end of it.</p><p>At Lark’s graduation, they held a moment of silence for Jason Todd, kidnapped and presumed dead over a year ago, where his name should have been. As she walked off the stage and sat down, she held her head in her hands so no one would see her cry.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter Five</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jason woke up convinced he was drowning, as he had every night since he woke up in the Lazarus Pit, where Talia al Ghul had dropped him just to see what would happen. He remembered dying and everything before, but apparently she’d found him wandering alone, with no memory of himself. She said he must have dug himself out of his own grave, resurrected somehow. Even she didn’t understand what had happened. But he understood that Joker had taken two years of his life from him.</p>
<p>He looked down at his forearm and lightly traced the words written there in tight typewriter script.</p>
<p>
  <i>You’re alive.</i>
</p>
<p>Jason repeated the words to himself, over and over, until he could breathe again. He tried not to think too much about what the new mark meant, branded into the arm opposite his old one. He had a plan. One day, Talia would stop training him and let him go. He would find Lark, tell her everything. That singular thought kept him moving. He still ached with missing her, like the phantom pains of a missing limb. </p>
<p>At the slightest opportunity, he would bolt and Talia knew it.</p><hr/>
<p>Lark woke up crying and not knowing why. Her dream had been horrible, but now the memory slipped away, leaving only grief and fear behind. She shook her head and turned the lights on in her apartment. If she couldn’t sleep, she would work.</p>
<p>She’d fully intended to move out of Gotham after graduating, but the scholarship offered by GSU might just keep her from crippling debt, so she stayed. And maybe that had been for the best. Gotham forced her to face her grief every day, head on. </p>
<p>Jason Todd crossed her mind almost every day, but she hadn’t shed a tear over him in years. Now the heartache crashed into her all at once and she found herself crying on her kitchen floor, buried in his hoodie. When her breathing steadied again, she pushed up the sleeves and tried to put herself back together. Glancing down, she noticed a stain of ink on her skin.</p>
<p>Not ink. Words. Words written in neat, jagged lines. Lark reached out and traced them gently, like it might smudge and vanish. </p>
<p>
  <i>You’re here.</i>
</p>
<p>A soulmate mark.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter Six</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Somewhere along the way, Jason lost himself. The elites in Gotham’s underbelly had taken too much from him, from his family, from everyone. It thrived on fear and apathy, but it wouldn't last any longer—it wouldn’t survive him. </p><p>Talia blamed the Pit. Bruce blamed Talia. Maybe they were both a little right, but he knew that, ultimately, he had chosen to become Red Hood on his own. And every time he pulled the trigger, he made that choice again.</p><p>Dick Grayson knew that too. But for some reason, the stubborn bastard wouldn’t stop trying to talk to him.</p><p>“You should come home,” he said one night, after tracking Jason down and finding him standing on the rooftop edge of an old patrol spot.</p><p>“I’m a little sick of hearing what I <i>should</i> do, Dickbat,” Jason spat from behind his mask, plenty of poison getting through.</p><p>Grayson sighed loudly. Jason had grown taller in the years since he’d been gone and it still threw him a little to have to look down at him for once. Now, he could see that weeks, maybe months of sleepless nights bent Boy Wonder's shoulders.</p><p>“Look,” Grayson started, “you’re still family. Always will be. Everyone misses you.”</p><p>“You replaced me pretty easily.”</p><p>“Don’t do that. Don’t make this about Robin.”</p><p>Jason barked out a laugh. “This has always been about Robin though, hasn’t it? A Robin wouldn’t have gotten himself killed on the job. Wouldn’t have become <i>this</i>. So Batman got himself another one, right?”</p><p>“You think that’s all you are? Another Robin? You’re my brother. You’re his son. And you—” </p><p>His communicator pinged. </p><p>He frowned at it, which turned into a scowl as he listened to the other end, and after hanging up, he said, “There’s a hostage situation. By the docks.”</p><p>“Well, have fun.” Jason turned to go.</p><p>“It’s Joker.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter Seven</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Lark bit her lip so hard from trying not to cry that it had started to bleed. The other students weren’t fairing all that much better. Joker had strapped suicide vests to them all. If any one person tried to escape, he would let them walk out, but he would kill everyone else. His monologue earlier had been something about the selfishness of their generation, rampant and destructive individualism, and altogether sounded like he’d gotten the idea from a clickbait article.</p><p>They sat huddled together on the cold warehouse floor. Waiting.</p><p>Joker hadn’t counted on the fact that every single one of them had grown up watching vigilantes save people from scenarios like this. They all knew that, ultimately, Joker was more interested in screwing with the Bats than killing a few dozen college students. They could afford to wait him out. Or at least, that’s what Lark had been telling herself.</p><p>A sudden crash of broken glass made them all jolt. A quiet scream escaped her clenched teeth.</p><p>“Joker!” a voice roared from the other side of the warehouse.</p><p>Joker didn’t even move, but laughed high and cold until his smile split his face in two. “Batsy, is that you?” he called.</p><p>Batman stalked out of the shadows, with a searing death glare not at all kept back by the cowl. “This is over.”</p><p>He laughed again and turned, starting another lecture on his overly dramatic version of the Trolley Problem. Lark wondered why Batman just stood there and let him talk, but then she caught sight of two figures sneaking towards them. She recognized their uniforms from the news.</p><p>Nightwing and Red Hood.</p><p>They started defusing the vests one by one and pointing students towards the exit, quietly telling them to head for the police station. Red Hood paused when he reached her. He’d ditched his red motorcycle helmet in exchange for a red domino mask, presumably so he wouldn’t scare the students any further. She could see the very human, very worried look on his face, could see his mess of black hair, with a flash of white, falling over his mask.</p><p>The moment lasted too long. Joker turned with a dramatic flourish. His expression cracked for an instant, before splitting into another peel of laughter. “So you <i>did</i> bring your Bat Brats.” He sneered at Red Hood, “I’m sure I’ve got a crowbar around here somewhere, if it’s a rematch you want, <i>Robin</i>.”</p><p>Red Hood froze, suddenly young and vulnerable under the mask, then his face collapsed into rage. His fingers twitched over the guns at his hips.</p><p>“Red,” Nightwing hissed. “Don’t.”</p><p>He didn’t move for a long moment. She watched the muscle in his jaw pulse. Then he reached out for her.</p><p>“Careful, Robin.” Joker produced a detonator from his jacket and twirled it around. “She’s not nearly as invincible as you.”</p><p>“Drop it, Joker,” Batman growled.</p><p>“No. No, I think this’ll be an excellent learning experience, don’t you?” He grinned at him over his shoulder. “Here’s my proposition for you, Robin—”</p><p>“I’m Robin now, you sideshow reject!” A figure dropped from the ceiling, landing feet first into Joker’s face, and knocking the detonator out of his hands. “Go!” Robin shouted.</p><p>Red Hood pulled the suicide vest apart, then picked her up and started sprinting out of the warehouse. Out of instinct, she wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face in his warm shoulder. When he stopped and set her down, she found herself on the street in front of the police station. Lark turned to thank him, but he’d already vanished over the rooftops.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter Eight</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Seeing Lark, scared and crying and in danger, had shaken Jason down to his bones. And it almost got her killed. He’d held her as close as he dared, taking the long way to the police station. His heart nearly lurched out of his chest when she’d dug her fingers into his jacket and pressed her head into his shoulder like it belonged there. He tried desperately to work up the courage to speak to her, but she didn’t know Red Hood and he almost didn’t want her to. He wanted, for the first time in years, to be Jason first.</p><p>Instead, he ran from her. The last thing in the world he wanted to do.</p><p>A couple of nights later, he knocked on the Wayne Manor door. He didn’t want to admit it, but he needed his family. He needed help getting out of his own head and back to Lark.</p><p>He didn’t expect to find her sitting on a couch talking to Dick like she’d done it a thousand times. Maybe she had. There was so much he’d missed. </p><p>Jason froze in the doorway, but Dick caught sight of him before he could bolt again. If he was surprised, it didn’t show.</p><p>“Uh, Lark,” he said, standing up. “There’s something we need to tell you.”</p><p>When she turned and her eyes met his, Jason’s heart stopped and he thought he might die all over again. He opened his mouth, but couldn’t make anything out. He fidgeted like he might move towards her, but he stayed frozen by the door.</p><p>Tears slipped down her face and he tried to step forward again. Then she stood up, beautiful and sure of herself and everything his bloody hands should not touch.</p><p>“You’re alive,” she said.</p><p>Hope exploded in his chest despite himself. Words tumbled out, finally. “You’re here,” he said.</p><p>Her hand flew to her mouth and he knew why, with impossible certainty. He stepped as close to her as he dared, rolling up his sleeves and baring his forearms so she could see. He belonged with her twice over.</p>
<hr/><p>Lark reached out and gingerly touched the words branded into Jason’s skin—her words. With shaking hands, she pulled up her own sleeve to show him there’d been no mistake this time. She belonged with him.</p><p>When she looked up at him, she found his green eyes shining and near tears. He twitched like he might touch her, but he stopped. She took his scarred hands, partly to be sure she wasn’t dreaming again, and placed one over his words.</p><p>“You were right,” she whispered, smiling through tears.</p><p>He shook his head, linking his hands with hers. “I have so much to tell you. Lark, I—I’m sorry, I—”</p><p>She put her arms around him, pulling him close and letting his warmth sink back into her. He jolted and hesitated, then hugged her tightly. His chest shook with quiet laughter or tears, she couldn’t tell.</p><p>“Don’t you wanna know where I’ve been?” he asked, voice breaking and breath shuddering against her ear.</p><p>“We have time for that. But you’re—you’re alive.”</p><p>She was certain he laughed now. He rubbed her back and kissed her forehead. “I’m glad I’ve got you around to remind me.”</p>
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